(Hello everyone. I noticed that there are not enough fan fictions of the movie, "Clue," so I decided to write one. This story is a prequel, and much darker and more serious than the movie. But nevertheless, I hope everyone likes it!)
"Can you believe what the United States is coming to?" A woman sipped her tea and the other one nodded.
"Yes, I know. Everybody is being accused, left and right. What's next, public hangings?" The other woman laughed as a tall man, dressed in a fine suit came in.
"More tea ladies?" He asked, a British accent coming through in his voice. Both of them smiled, "Yes please." One of them, a dark haired beauty, named Edith said, blushing. He came over and smiled, before kissing her, and poured the hot drink.
"What are you two ladies talking about?" The other woman sighed, rubbing her head.
"Well, we were talking about McCarthyism. I mean, everybody is being accused these days. I feel like it's the Salem Witch Trials, all over again!" She shouted, gesturing with her hands, she looked at the couple. "I mean, Wadsworth, what if you and your wife Edith were accused? What would happen to your baby?"
Edith patted her stomach, "Wadsworth, the baby, and I are going to be just fine. I promise. Trust me I don't agree with this whole McCarthy-" A soft cough echoed through the room and they all turned. A man, about the height of Wadsworth was standing in the doorway, a scowl upon his face. His eyes were the color of coal, and they glinted, angrily. Wadsworth sucked in a breath, as Edith looked down, ashamed.
"Edith, Margaret, I would leave the room. Now," he whispered and they followed. The man, named Mr. Boddy came stomping in, furiously muttering to himself.
¨What´s wrong sir?¨ Wadsworth asked, standing up, a look of concern upon the butler's´ face. Mr. Boddy took a seat, rubbing his head.
¨It's the goddamn United States of America. Nobody knows what they're putting us into, letting these communists into our country, not doing a thing about it. We´re losing our money, Wadsworth. I´m going broke, working for an FBI, that doesn't even know what they're doing.¨
The butler nodded,
¨I´m terribly sorry sir, I understand how frustrating McCarthyism can be.¨
¨They're layin' me off Wadsworth.¨
A look of surprise cast over on the butler's' face, fear momentarily in his eyes. ¨But why sir? You're working for J. Edgar Hoover, one of the top anti-communists in the United States. Why on earth would they fire you?¨ Mr. Boddy rubbed his head, wanting nothing more than Yvette, his money, and some aspirin.
¨It's the goddamn liberals, saying that McCarthyism is unlawful. Wait until a nuclear bomb drops on us and then letś see what they say.¨ Wadsworth gulped, and spoke up.
¨What about your bills? How will they get paid? My wife and I will be homeless! We can´t be homeless, she´s expecting!" He spat out, beginning to get worried. ¨She can´t be out with these hooligans and prostitutes and criminals. And frankly, neither can I.¨
¨Mr. Boddy? Do you need anything?¨ A woman came from the kitchen. Her hair was perfectly curled up into a bun, not a single hair out of place. Makeup framed her delicate, lovely face, which was only with a lovelier body. Her large, shapely bust was accented into a french maids uniform.
¨Not, now Yvette, this is man's talk. I'll be with you later. We will have some ´business´ to discuss.¨ Yvette looked to Wadsworth, who smiled nervously back at her. With a worried look, she left. Suddenly, Mr. Boddy picked his head up. ¨Prostitutes and criminals,¨ he murmured, suddenly having an idea.
¨Sir?¨ Wadsworth bent down to look at his employer, who´s eyes were glistening with madness. Mr. Boddy began tearing up the room, rummaging through his desks, throwing out pencils and papers. He turned over bookshelves, exploring through the contents of them.
¨Son of a bitch, where did I put those file-¨
¨Are you looking for these sir?¨ Mr. Boddyś head whipped around. Wadsworth was holding up the files of the six individuals that he was ordered to throw away. He pushed the butler out of the way, sending him sprawling against the wall.
¨Yesss.¨ He hissed, looking over them. Green, Mustard, Peacock, Plum, Scarlett, and White. All criminals, all communists in Mr. Boddy´s eyes. Wadsworth coughed and Boddy gasped, bringing himself back to reality.
¨Who are those people?¨ Wadsworth asked, beginning to worry over his boss´ insanity.
¨The worst communists ever known to man.¨ Wadsworth gulped, not knowing his boss´ intentions as his eyes scanned over the civilians.
¨Communists, sir? They look like ordinary people,¨ he butted in. Mr. Boddy chuckled, not looking up from the papers.
¨No, they just put on that facade. It´s a red herring. They commit every sin known to mankind.¨ He paused, looking at his faithful butler. ¨Wadsworth? Would you be a dear and write a couple of letters? I promise that nor you or your beautiful wife will never go out into the street. Neither will your future daughter. But, you have to do exactly as I say. Kapeesh?¨ Wadsworth gulped, his employer shoving the files and some paper and calligraphy pens into Wadsworth´s trembling hands.
¨Y-yes sir.¨ Mr. Boddy stood up, patting the butler's back.
"Good, I knew I can count on you. I promise that your actions will be rewarded." He turned to leave, before looking over his shoulder. "Oh, and Wadsworth?" Wadsworth looked up, and Mr. Boddy smiled. "I overheard that your wife is against McCarthyism. Can you please teach her to not talk about her distaste in my presence?" He snickered and left, calling for Yvette, leaving the helpless butler with the piles of paper.
In the silence, he began to write.